


Once Again

by bertie



Category: Sherlock (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertie/pseuds/bertie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John smiled up at his—was he a lover? Boyfriend? Flatmate?—whatever he was, Sherlock was smiling right back at him, sniffing and laughing gently at John’s grin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this drawing](http://marielikestodraw.tumblr.com/post/9234708831/3-years-probably-one-of-my-most-detailed) drawn by [marielikestodraw](http://marielikestodraw.tumblr.com) (Tumblr)/[mariemjs](http://mariemjs.livejournal.com/) (Live Journal). [amykitch](http://amykitch.tumblr.com) on Tumblr suggested someone write a fluffy Sherlock/John reuniting post-Reichenbach fic so I couldn't say  _no_. That'd be insane! This is what came out of that comment and I wrote it kind of fast so do tell me if there's anything I need to fix/change. Enjoy!

The face was familiar.

  
So familiar that it pained John just to look at it.

  
The unruly mop of curls brushed his forehead. The full, Cupid’s bow lips were chapped and turned down into a deep frown. Those pale, ethereal eyes bore into John’s and the older man could see the eyes fill with tears.

  
“John.”

  
The ex-army doctor let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding at the sound of that deep, rasping voice saying his name.

  
“Sherlock.”

  
He was surprised at the pitiful, needy way his voice sounded to his own ears, but John still threw the bags he was holding to the sidewalk and met Sherlock in front of the door to 221b Baker Street. Their arms wound around each other, holding on tightly. The detective was thinner than he had been before he’d disappeared. He was dressed in a much too big brown jacket with nondescript black trousers and shoes to “blend in” and “not draw attention” as Mycroft had said. John held on tight to the taller man, pressing his face into his chest. He felt Sherlock nuzzle against his hair, breathing in heavily.

  
As the flatmates pulled away, staring up at each other’s familiar but much too different faces, there was a moment of pause that each man studied the other to guess where they went from there. Then Sherlock’s long-fingered hand cupped John’s cheek and drew him up for a soft, long-needed kiss. It was just a tender brush of lips that had them both smiling through their tears, but it gave them both the reassurance that the other was real and there and _everything was going to be all right._

  
John smiled up at his—was he a lover? Boyfriend? Flatmate?—whatever he was, Sherlock was smiling right back at him, sniffing and laughing gently at John’s grin.

  
“Would you like to come up for a cuppa?” John asked, almost shyly, and Sherlock grinned.

  
“I would love to,” Sherlock murmured before catching John’s lips in another kiss.

  
The pair kissed for another moment on the sidewalk of Baker Street before making their way up to _their_ flat. They shared a cuppa on the sofa and Sherlock told John, with more emotion than John had ever heard in their time together, that they were safe, Moriarty and his henchmen were dead. That declaration alone made John seize Sherlock’s face and grin at him before kissing him senseless. This meant Sherlock would once again be the only consulting detective in the world.


End file.
